Just as Stella was getting up from her nap, and Heath and I were busily readying ourselves to head on out to our Music Together class, we got a pleasant surprise. Mark was home from work. I was sure he was going to want to go out for a run, after all, the Grandfather Mountain marathon is in 10 days. Nope.
Instead, he opted to join us for a little family dance-and-sing-a-long. I know the kids were delighted to have him in the class with us, and I got a kick out of catching him swaying to the beat of Choo-Choo, Chugga, Choo-Choo-Choo type ditties, and feeling the beat of the boogie, wearing his construction boots and a Russo Dumpster Service shirt.
We iced our family night cake with a little vegetable plate and spaghetti dinner at Lupie's. And now, It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia.
Considering the tumultuous beginning to the week, I'd say this was a pretty swell close to the hump day.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
May "Mayday" Parker
I was ready to throw in the towel and cross the day off as beyond disorganized for Heath. All activities were met with protest (or wild, purposeless over-enthusiasm). All people who crossed his path were met with yelling and pushing. But at 6:20pm, bedtime seemed out of the question. Last ditch effort, I got out the Spider-Man puzzle I'd stumbled across when I went to the Dollar Store on Sunday. The Dollar Store is a sensory-activity gold mine. This puzzle loaded with pictures of Peter Parker and friends was worth a million.
He settled in. He paid attention. He placed pieces in wrong places. Didn't get frustrated. Maneuvered them around. Clapped when he filled in the correct spots to see Spider-Girl. (Did you know there was a Spider Girl? This was news to me. And it's not Peter's girlfriend. It's his daughter. I have so much to learn.) He took his time. Other distractions (Stella banging an ambulance on the table, Mark mopping up the dinner mess the two kiddies made) didn't rev him up. He was involved. And thrilled when all 25 pieces fit together perfectly. Phew.
I had somewhere to be by 7:30, and I left a calm Heath in the bathtub, exfoliating the tub with shaving cream and a long-handled loofah brush (more Dollar store miracles). Apparently everyone went to bed without a hitch.
Okay. I can do this again tomorrow. Deep breath. Very deep breath.
He settled in. He paid attention. He placed pieces in wrong places. Didn't get frustrated. Maneuvered them around. Clapped when he filled in the correct spots to see Spider-Girl. (Did you know there was a Spider Girl? This was news to me. And it's not Peter's girlfriend. It's his daughter. I have so much to learn.) He took his time. Other distractions (Stella banging an ambulance on the table, Mark mopping up the dinner mess the two kiddies made) didn't rev him up. He was involved. And thrilled when all 25 pieces fit together perfectly. Phew.
I had somewhere to be by 7:30, and I left a calm Heath in the bathtub, exfoliating the tub with shaving cream and a long-handled loofah brush (more Dollar store miracles). Apparently everyone went to bed without a hitch.
Okay. I can do this again tomorrow. Deep breath. Very deep breath.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Waiting for Parts
We had a lovely morning of sprayground and playground fun with a playdate, then had to hightail it on home to see a man about a dryer--and having it fixed. As much as I had wished the squawking and louder-than-norm rumble away, the dryer did not magically fix itself. So the kiddies and I went home to wait for the guy to come. Between 1 and 5. I can't find a better way to say how much I despise the between this time and that time deal. It sucks.
Both sun-and-play-zapped kids conked out at 2. (Heath, for the first time in his entire three and a half years, napped in his own bed.) And I guess I did, too, ever-so-briefly, because next thing I knew, my cell phone was vibrating. It was 3:36. Dryer man had arrived.
It took him two minutes to tell me the following. Yes. That's an obnoxious noise, and it shouldn't be doing that. No. He can't fix it today. A part must be ordered. And no. He didn't know how much it was going to be. His guesstimate was somewhere between a lot and might as well buy a new one. When I furrowed my brow, he reeled his number line back in, and settled on something much more reasonable.
What isn't reasonable is having to wait for the part to come in. Could be three days. Maybe four. Then it starts to get into the 4th of July weekend, and well, they won't be open until Tuesday. I furrowed again. Should be here by Friday. Still. That's a lot of days with no dryer. Guess I'll just have to hang my clothes outside and let the 110 degree heat dry them.
The dryer fella was gone by 3:45. When the kiddies woke up at 4:15, I gathered them quickly and tossed them in the car. Heath needed a hair trim, and the less time he had to think about it, the better. In my haste to waste no time, I left some important items at home. Their shoes. More than halfway to the haircut place, there was no way I was going to turn back around to get them. And there was no way I was going to go another day with Heath peering out from under his hair, and occasionally complaining that it is bothering him (but refusing to get it cut).
So we went on. Shoeless. Worst case scenario: they don't let us get a haircut. I decided there was no way this was going to be happen, and it really wasn't worst case scenario anyway. Worst case scenario: People look at me and my children, and judge me and my children for being the goofball mom who took her kids out without shoes. I vaguely considered running into Target and buying them shoes, then decided that was really a goofball mom thing to do.
So we went on. Heath sat in the Jeep. Got his haircut. Without wearing shoes. Stella sat on a motorcycle (shycle, as she would say). No haircut. No shoes. Then we wandered around outside, threw some pennies into a fountain, made some wishes, and went home for dinner. Heath wished for Spider-Man powers. Stella probably wished she could eat the penny. And I wished to be a little less heavy-headed and hearted about the stuff that doesn't really matter.
Both sun-and-play-zapped kids conked out at 2. (Heath, for the first time in his entire three and a half years, napped in his own bed.) And I guess I did, too, ever-so-briefly, because next thing I knew, my cell phone was vibrating. It was 3:36. Dryer man had arrived.
It took him two minutes to tell me the following. Yes. That's an obnoxious noise, and it shouldn't be doing that. No. He can't fix it today. A part must be ordered. And no. He didn't know how much it was going to be. His guesstimate was somewhere between a lot and might as well buy a new one. When I furrowed my brow, he reeled his number line back in, and settled on something much more reasonable.
What isn't reasonable is having to wait for the part to come in. Could be three days. Maybe four. Then it starts to get into the 4th of July weekend, and well, they won't be open until Tuesday. I furrowed again. Should be here by Friday. Still. That's a lot of days with no dryer. Guess I'll just have to hang my clothes outside and let the 110 degree heat dry them.
The dryer fella was gone by 3:45. When the kiddies woke up at 4:15, I gathered them quickly and tossed them in the car. Heath needed a hair trim, and the less time he had to think about it, the better. In my haste to waste no time, I left some important items at home. Their shoes. More than halfway to the haircut place, there was no way I was going to turn back around to get them. And there was no way I was going to go another day with Heath peering out from under his hair, and occasionally complaining that it is bothering him (but refusing to get it cut).
So we went on. Shoeless. Worst case scenario: they don't let us get a haircut. I decided there was no way this was going to be happen, and it really wasn't worst case scenario anyway. Worst case scenario: People look at me and my children, and judge me and my children for being the goofball mom who took her kids out without shoes. I vaguely considered running into Target and buying them shoes, then decided that was really a goofball mom thing to do.
So we went on. Heath sat in the Jeep. Got his haircut. Without wearing shoes. Stella sat on a motorcycle (shycle, as she would say). No haircut. No shoes. Then we wandered around outside, threw some pennies into a fountain, made some wishes, and went home for dinner. Heath wished for Spider-Man powers. Stella probably wished she could eat the penny. And I wished to be a little less heavy-headed and hearted about the stuff that doesn't really matter.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Bye-Bye, Cousins...Bye-Bye, Crib...
Oh, the sadness. My brother and the boys left today. 10 days just isn't enough time. Heath was bummed when it finally registered that today was the end of cousin fun. He cheered up when I told him that we would go out there for a visit. Now, to just get a little courage about flying with the two of them by myself. Yikes.
It's 10pm and Heath has been asleep in his big boy bed for an hour now. That's right. A big boy bed, at last. As adventuresome and on-the-edge as Heath may live his life, he has never made a move about climbing out of his crib. Not only has he not attempted to even throw a leg over the side, whenever the discussion popped up about changing his crib to a bed, he protested. Loudly. He was very much like a dog in his crate. It's safe. It's comfy. And it's all his.
So we didn't push it. I don't even know how the topic came up today. But it did. And he was ready. Mark removed the front of the crib, and it is now a lovely cherry sleigh day bed. When he was going to bed tonight, he was thrilled that we can now sit down in the bed with him and read his night time stories and have our what-happened-today/what's-happening-tomorrow discussion.
For a while there I was starting to suspect that Stella was going to be in a toddler bed before Heath. She is already tossing a leg over the side rail, and building elaborate step stools out of her stuffed animals.
But I wouldn't describe Heath as a late-bloomer; he just accomplishes things on his own time-frame. And despite my concern that something isn't going the way it's supposed to, it's always just right.
I do feel some sense of relief, though. Now I can stop worrying that he's going to be that freak kid who still sleeps in a crib in his college dorm.
It's 10pm and Heath has been asleep in his big boy bed for an hour now. That's right. A big boy bed, at last. As adventuresome and on-the-edge as Heath may live his life, he has never made a move about climbing out of his crib. Not only has he not attempted to even throw a leg over the side, whenever the discussion popped up about changing his crib to a bed, he protested. Loudly. He was very much like a dog in his crate. It's safe. It's comfy. And it's all his.
So we didn't push it. I don't even know how the topic came up today. But it did. And he was ready. Mark removed the front of the crib, and it is now a lovely cherry sleigh day bed. When he was going to bed tonight, he was thrilled that we can now sit down in the bed with him and read his night time stories and have our what-happened-today/what's-happening-tomorrow discussion.
For a while there I was starting to suspect that Stella was going to be in a toddler bed before Heath. She is already tossing a leg over the side rail, and building elaborate step stools out of her stuffed animals.
But I wouldn't describe Heath as a late-bloomer; he just accomplishes things on his own time-frame. And despite my concern that something isn't going the way it's supposed to, it's always just right.
I do feel some sense of relief, though. Now I can stop worrying that he's going to be that freak kid who still sleeps in a crib in his college dorm.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
For Shizzle
Too many late nights in a row have left the kiddies wrought with emotional sensitivities that made the day lousy with loud shrieking and constant complaints. And despite my best thoughts this morning that tonight would be different, it's 9:45 and they just went to bed. Oh well. The visit with the cousins is coming to a close, so the late night schedule has been well worth it.
Today at 2pm it was clear Heath was not going to take a nap. With a birthday party at 3pm for a preschool bud, I decided to stop trying, tossed him in the sweltering car, and took off for the Nature Museum (and a quick mommy-related pit stop at Starbucks). Before we were out of the neighborhood, Heath was asleep, so I just ended up driving around for half an hour.
He woke up from his snoring, head-bobbing car slumber at 2:45, just as we were closing in on East Blvd., where you have your pick of Starbucks or Caribou. I told him we were going to stop and get some Tea before we headed off to the party. Getting to the party ASAP was his priority, and his lack of lengthy nap, late nights, and general overheated mood brought the fight out in him. I didn't have it in me to deal with the awakened beast, so I passed on my tea and headed off to the party.
We've been to the Nature Museum before, but not for a birthday party. What a refreshing venue. The kids got to pet animal skins (o'possum, raccoon, skunk). They got to pet live animals (snake, cockroach, turtle, bunny). I declined on touching the cockroach, jumped at the chance to rub the soft rabbit, and wavered a moment on touching Duncan the snake, then decided if Heath can do it, so can I. It was surprisingly smooth. I would go so far as to say it was soft. I don't know what I was expecting. Something harder. Or at least more textured. But it wasn't.
The kids got a delicious treat of Ben and Jerry's ice cream cake. Heath, who can usually take cake, or leave it, ate his entire piece with much zeal, scraping the spoon across the paper plate, careful to not miss a single drop of yummy creaminess. They also got a great goodie bag of squishy lizard toys and tattoos and bubbles.
The blue and pink lizards (maybe they are salamanders? Heath and I kept calling them lizards) were taken out of the bag as soon as we got in the car. When we got home, Heath showed them to Stella, but was quick to let her know that they are his, not hers, and sharing was not quite an option just yet. Eventually, Heath left them on the back deck steps. When Stella stumbled across them, she looked around for Heath, who was busy helping Mark pump up tires on his bike, and jumped at the opportunity to pick them both up, shake them in her hands, and squeal, Shizzles! Shizzles!
Today at 2pm it was clear Heath was not going to take a nap. With a birthday party at 3pm for a preschool bud, I decided to stop trying, tossed him in the sweltering car, and took off for the Nature Museum (and a quick mommy-related pit stop at Starbucks). Before we were out of the neighborhood, Heath was asleep, so I just ended up driving around for half an hour.
He woke up from his snoring, head-bobbing car slumber at 2:45, just as we were closing in on East Blvd., where you have your pick of Starbucks or Caribou. I told him we were going to stop and get some Tea before we headed off to the party. Getting to the party ASAP was his priority, and his lack of lengthy nap, late nights, and general overheated mood brought the fight out in him. I didn't have it in me to deal with the awakened beast, so I passed on my tea and headed off to the party.
We've been to the Nature Museum before, but not for a birthday party. What a refreshing venue. The kids got to pet animal skins (o'possum, raccoon, skunk). They got to pet live animals (snake, cockroach, turtle, bunny). I declined on touching the cockroach, jumped at the chance to rub the soft rabbit, and wavered a moment on touching Duncan the snake, then decided if Heath can do it, so can I. It was surprisingly smooth. I would go so far as to say it was soft. I don't know what I was expecting. Something harder. Or at least more textured. But it wasn't.
The kids got a delicious treat of Ben and Jerry's ice cream cake. Heath, who can usually take cake, or leave it, ate his entire piece with much zeal, scraping the spoon across the paper plate, careful to not miss a single drop of yummy creaminess. They also got a great goodie bag of squishy lizard toys and tattoos and bubbles.
The blue and pink lizards (maybe they are salamanders? Heath and I kept calling them lizards) were taken out of the bag as soon as we got in the car. When we got home, Heath showed them to Stella, but was quick to let her know that they are his, not hers, and sharing was not quite an option just yet. Eventually, Heath left them on the back deck steps. When Stella stumbled across them, she looked around for Heath, who was busy helping Mark pump up tires on his bike, and jumped at the opportunity to pick them both up, shake them in her hands, and squeal, Shizzles! Shizzles!
Friday, June 25, 2010
California Rolls
Despite a late night, Heath was up before 7am requesting his fire fighter uniform and a playdate with Sam the mountain dog. Call his mom and ask her to bring him for a sleepover, too. Stella, on the other hand, has a clearer understanding that late-to-bed means late-to-wake, so she slumbered until 8:30.
My older (and only) brother has been in NJ all week working, while my nephews hung back here with us. He flew back to Charlotte last night, so Mark and I were able to have an excellent evening of sushi and post-dinner coffee with him. I don't think we've talked that much in years. Our time was so leisurely that I didn't realize it was 9pm and I nearly forgot that we had children at Papa and HeHe's ready to be picked, and very ready for bed.
My parents were brave and watched all four kiddies (and a Granny), while we had our indulgent night out. Their evening was spent eating spagehtti, slipping and sliding on a backyard water-hosed Slip 'n Slide, and having their bath. We returned to my parent's house to find all four children lined up in an adorable row on Papa and HeHe's bed, freshly bathed and pajamaed, munching on apple slices and Cheez-Its, and engrossed in the movie of the night, Benji (the original 1974 version). Turns out the mountain dog, Scruffy, looks a lot like Benji. Also, it turns out that Benji is a little creepy with kidnapped children with duct tape over their mouthes. It's also a little creepy just because anything made in the early 70s that has to do with children becomes increasingly trippy as the years roll by. Benji the dog is no exception.
Sadly, the Cali Clan heads back on Sunday. Boo-hoo, hoo.
My older (and only) brother has been in NJ all week working, while my nephews hung back here with us. He flew back to Charlotte last night, so Mark and I were able to have an excellent evening of sushi and post-dinner coffee with him. I don't think we've talked that much in years. Our time was so leisurely that I didn't realize it was 9pm and I nearly forgot that we had children at Papa and HeHe's ready to be picked, and very ready for bed.
My parents were brave and watched all four kiddies (and a Granny), while we had our indulgent night out. Their evening was spent eating spagehtti, slipping and sliding on a backyard water-hosed Slip 'n Slide, and having their bath. We returned to my parent's house to find all four children lined up in an adorable row on Papa and HeHe's bed, freshly bathed and pajamaed, munching on apple slices and Cheez-Its, and engrossed in the movie of the night, Benji (the original 1974 version). Turns out the mountain dog, Scruffy, looks a lot like Benji. Also, it turns out that Benji is a little creepy with kidnapped children with duct tape over their mouthes. It's also a little creepy just because anything made in the early 70s that has to do with children becomes increasingly trippy as the years roll by. Benji the dog is no exception.
Sadly, the Cali Clan heads back on Sunday. Boo-hoo, hoo.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
The Lock Out
Post-morning run, Whistlestop Road wandering, and neighbor's tree climbing, Heath thought it would be hilarious to run into the house, lock all the doors, and stand at the front window snickering, while I held Stella and tried to look like I had no idea what he had done, and really tried to look like I wasn't going to completely blow a fuse. After five minutes, I gave up on the non-reactive reaction and tried some old fashioned hollering, door banging, and Open this door now with my best low-toned, jaw clenched, brow scowled mom voice. It worked.
Five minutes later, I was ready to tackle our mountain gear laundry. (In a smart moment of Heath clothing foresight, I packed six outfits for Heath for our overnight trip. He returned home in some underwear and a very dirty pajama shirt. Wallowing in mud, swimming in cricks, Papa's mountain tree tramping, and lounging on some old dogs made for multiple wardrobe changes.) I tossed the wet towels into the dryer, turned it on, and was met with a screeching, sawing, rumbling, shaking machine.
What's that noise? Heath asked, racing into the room with his tool box.
Good question. Too bad Heath couldn't fix it. Neither could Mark. We have someone coming Monday afternoon between 1 and 5. I don't have enough clothes for Heath to make it until Monday. Maybe I can let him beat his clothes on some rocks to clean them.
Five minutes later, I was ready to tackle our mountain gear laundry. (In a smart moment of Heath clothing foresight, I packed six outfits for Heath for our overnight trip. He returned home in some underwear and a very dirty pajama shirt. Wallowing in mud, swimming in cricks, Papa's mountain tree tramping, and lounging on some old dogs made for multiple wardrobe changes.) I tossed the wet towels into the dryer, turned it on, and was met with a screeching, sawing, rumbling, shaking machine.
What's that noise? Heath asked, racing into the room with his tool box.
Good question. Too bad Heath couldn't fix it. Neither could Mark. We have someone coming Monday afternoon between 1 and 5. I don't have enough clothes for Heath to make it until Monday. Maybe I can let him beat his clothes on some rocks to clean them.
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